


Moon of Winds

by kuhekabir



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuhekabir/pseuds/kuhekabir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembered his Grandma whispering to him.  <i>Beware of the blue moon mixing with the wind of change.</i></p>
<p>When, after a full moon, Derek wakes up human, he figured he probably should’ve paid more attention to her teachings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moon of Winds

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't shake this plot bunny, it just wanted to be written. It is a future fic and will probably be AU after the last episode (depending on who makes it to season 3 and who doesn't).

“And I jumped, soaring through the air…”

Derek paused, hand raised outside the door, aborting his move to push it open. No, it couldn’t be. Not after five years, not without so much of a single word.

His sharper than human hearing wasn’t about to be denied since the excited voice continued entertaining anyone who was listening with his adventure story.

“It was amazing,” he said enthusiastically, his voice vibrating with barely contained energy. “I was flying…guys, you have to come with me the next time I’m paragliding.”

Derek adjusted his neck, giving himself a few seconds so he could regain his control. Then, he picked up where he’d left off. With a swift move, and maybe with a lot more pressure than necessary, he shoved his front door open. It swung inwards, banging loudly against the wall.

He cringed. Not the kind of entry he’d been aiming for.

The eyes of his pack were on him within seconds. Erika was poised on her easy chair, long legs swung over its arm rest. Boyd, always the proper one, was actually sitting on the sofa like a normal person. Isaac was, of all the dammed places, sitting on the window sill. For a werewolf the guy surely had a penchant for high places, making Derek wonder if he might have some affinity for birds in his DNA somewhere. As long as he didn’t start to actually try to fly, Derek figured he could overlook Isaac’s less than proper werewolf behaviour.

Now, speaking of birds and flying…Derek’s eyes zoomed in on the intruder in the room, perched on the back rest of the sofa, aiming for a careful balancing act between gravity trying to drag him down and staying put. Whiskey coloured eyes stared right back him, and for someone as lively as him, he was darn good at masking what he was really thinking.

“Stiles,” Derek grunted in the way of greeting.

“Esteemed Alpha,” Stiles mocked right back, going so far as bowing to him which resulted in him falling forward. Only Boyd’s quick actions saved him from face planting into the coffee table.

Derek frowned, unsure how to react. This was pack territory. Stiles wasn’t pack. He had no place here. And yet, his wolf was only mildly pacing in the far reaches of his mind. Last time anyone of his pack had dared to bring a stranger back here, well, to say it hadn’t ended well would be an understatement.

Wolves were territorial and werewolves even more so. If given a warning, Derek was usually able to adjust. It wasn’t as if his wolf was the one who was in control.

“Still as growly as always,” Stiles smiled up at him as he leaned back into the sofa.

“What are you doing here?” Derek demanded to know. This might’ve come out a lot harsher than intended but he wasn’t going to take back the words. It was a valid question anyway. Last time he’d seen Stiles, the guy had been very clear on where he thought they stood.

Stiles’ open expression fluttered shut. “Visiting my friends?” He offered up a bit helplessly.

“What friends? It’s not as if you stayed in contact with any of them…” Derek narrowed his eyes as Stiles practically jumped onto his feet, his gaze full of challenge. Only Stiles managed to look at him this way and live. If another wolf would challenge him like this, Derek would rip the insolent pup’s throat out in a heartbeat. Sadly, being human meant he had to give some more consideration to Stiles. Balling his fingers into tight fists, he tried to reign in his temper.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on the verge of losing it like this. Leave it to Stiles to bring out the worst in him. The guy had always managed to do just that even when he’d been still a teenager. Now, at 22, Derek could still see the gangly young boy in his features but they were overshadowed by the handsome man he’d become.

Sometimes Derek felt a little bit old when he looked at his pack. He was only 6 years older than them but at 28 he sometimes thought he was more like 28 going on 60 than going on 30.

“Please,” Stiles made a weird clucking noise in the back of his throat which reminded Derek of a duck. Even more confused than before, he settled for glaring at the young man. “We’re all buddies on facebook plus we’re exchanging E-mails…”

“Not to mention the weekly phone calls,” Erika added.

Derek’s head swivelled towards the blonde.

“That still doesn’t answer my question as to what you’re doing here.” Derek changed tactics, ignoring how his heart had skipped a beat when he realized he’d been the only one out of the loop. Sure, he didn’t have a facebook account. Hell, he hardly even used a computer but he had a phone.

“Moving back,” Stiles said with finality. “For now, I am living with my Dad again until I can find my own place.”

“But why?” Derek could barely keep the whine from his voice. Why would Stiles move back here? Hadn’t he made it more than clear he didn’t want anything to do with him, with his home town? Didn’t he have places to be, things to see? These were Stiles’ words, not Derek’s.

“Why not?” Stiles hackles were rising, Derek could tell. Maybe someone else would’ve admitted defeat but not Derek. He might allow Stiles some leeway since he was human but enough was enough.

“Just answer me,” he growled, head tilted forward, shoulders tensing.

The sudden, sharp spike in Stiles’ heartbeat, added with the unique scent of fear was like balm for his soul. Good, he thought, at the least the idiot knew when he was in danger of getting his throat ripped out.

“Chill, Derek,” Isaac shouted from the window. “It’s all good. He’s done travelling. Where else would he go then but come home? His father’s here after all.”

Derek shot Isaac a withering glare before glowering at Stiles again.

“Is it true then?”

Stiles shrugged, using his head to make an aborted gesture towards Isaac. “What he said.”

Then he cleared his throat. “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome for now. See you guys later then as discussed?”

His pack made noises of agreement before Stiles got up, heading towards Derek. Surely he wasn’t going to…yes, he was. Bumping into Derek’s shoulder with an evil smirk, Stiles sauntered past him.

Derek took a deep breath. “No ripping out the throat of the annoying human,” he mumbled. Even whispered it was loud enough to be heard by sensitive werewolf ears. He ignored the soft chuckling sounds coming from Erika and Isaac.

With all the dignity he could muster, he turned around, going after Stiles. He caught him just as he vanished behind the house. What the hell was he doing there? Come to think of it, where was his car?

Seconds later the lack of a car became obvious since Stiles emerged with a bicycle.

“What?” The younger man eyed him defensively. “I don’t have any extra cash for a car and my old Jeep sadly died on me years ago.”

“What are your intentions?” Derek asked instead, ignoring the bike.

“My intentions?” Stiles blinked. “Where are we? Some 18th century romance novel where you’re asking your daughter’s suitor if he’s serious about her?” Even if he tried, Stiles couldn’t possibly have put more mockery on the words.

Derek growled again, the sound low and dangerous.

“Oh, please,” Stiles actually waved a hand at him. “As if this still works on me.”

“Answer me.” Derek demanded through gritted teeth. Stiles wasn’t pack, his choice not Derek’s, and now he was sniffing around his family again. Derek needed to know what Stiles was up to, if he was going to present a danger.

Derek hadn’t forgotten how cosy Stiles and Chris Argent had become shortly before Stiles had left Beacon Hills. 

“Relax, sourwolf,” Stiles finally deigned to answer him, giving him his best shit eating grin. “The puny human doesn’t mean you any harm. Just here to check up on my friends.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, Stiles got onto his bike, peddling away. Derek could’ve easily stopped him but he decided to take the high road instead.

##

“I won’t be here tomorrow night,” Erika announced right as Derek was poking at the green mess on his plate. Was it still moving? What were those squishy things anyway? Tendrils? No, he decides, if it had tendrils then it would be an animal and he could get on board with eating it.

“It’s not poison,” Isaac told him defensively.

Derek wasn’t convinced. When he lifted his head, the young man was eying him expectantly, his pale eyes watching his every move. Derek had two choices then. He could be an ass, deciding to just have bread for dinner, or he could suck it up and give the green mess a go. Isaac had been slaving on preparing their evening meal for the last hour, so Derek’s better half won out.

He raised the fork. Slowly and carefully, he guided it towards his mouth, aware of the stares he was getting from around the table. Erika was usually fine with the weird things Isaac considered to be food. Boyd had been sense.

Taking a deep breath, feeling like some sacrificial lamb, Derek took a bit, swallowing hard. The strong flavour of garlic had tears coming to his eyes. He could barely avoid coughing. When the vegetables had gone down his throat, a weird aftertaste of what could possibly be curry remained.

“Do I taste curry?” he asked, carefully poking at more of the green strings, trying to decide if they were gleaming yellow.

“Yes,” Isaac nodded happily. “I used green curry this time.”

This would explain why no yellow bits were found anywhere.

“Do you like it?”

“Sure,” Derek even managed a smile. “It is…” he was searching for the right word when he settled for unique. “It has a unique taste. It’s good.”

Isaac’s eyes were watching him carefully, possibly checking if he was lying. Since Derek was the Alpha he was better at masking his feelings but Isaac always seemed to have a second sense as to when Derek was being less than truthful. When a shit eating grin broke out on his handsome face, everyone else started to dig in. The atmosphere got less tense since Isaac wasn’t about to pout and proclaim them all food heathens.

Derek had spoken the truth. It would’ve also been true if he’d said he’d rather have lamb than this. He still had no clue what the vegetables had been in their previous life. Maybe they were green beans? Would explain the tentacle like structure. But then, what were those mushy, light green things? Better not to be too curious, he decided, continuing to shovel his food.

“You know we’re werewolves, right?” Boyd spoke. “Shouldn’t there be some meat with the vegs?”

Derek sighed. Now Boyd had done it.

Before a fight could erupt, Derek recalled what Erika had said. “What do you mean, you won’t be here tomorrow night? Tomorrow’s the full moon?” He addressed her.

The blonde shrugged. “I’ve got a date. Aren’t I old enough by now to avoid those moon gatherings we’ve got going? I’m not a child.” She managed to sound extremely petulant without coming across as being unreasonable.

Since Derek had no good reason to decline her, he only nodded. He’d always loved running with his family before they’d died. To them, the night of the full moon had been a celebration to be shared with everyone. No one would’ve dared to miss it unless it couldn’t be avoided.

Clearly, Erika didn’t feel the same way. Pack might be family but there was no way to ignore the fact that family didn’t mean the same thing as pack. Sometimes, blood did run thicker than water.

When he was done eating, he placed his plate in the sink before heading outside. The graves of his long deceased family were not far away from the house. He usually wasn’t morbid enough to head out there but something about the events of today made him head their way.

Kneeling down on the ground, he pushed some dirt off his sister’s grave stone. His eyes were drawn to the tiny blue flower daring to blossom next to the stone. Wolfsbane. But it wasn’t the dangerous plant which had him reeling, stumbling in his efforts to get back to the house. The colour blue had reminded him of something, of something very important.

Ignoring the curious looks he got as he dashed through the living room, he quickly entered his bedroom, grabbing the calendar he kept on his bedside drawer. March…flicking the pages, he finally settled on their current month. March was the month where they would have the moon of winds. His grandma had always called the wind the wind of change where the harsh winter winds started changing, tempering down with the promise of the upcoming spring. Yes, his eyes settled on the relevant details, widening slightly. They weren’t only going to have a full moon tomorrow, they were also going to have a blue moon.

_Beware of the blue moon mixing with the wind of change._

He slammed his tightly wrapped fist into the wall, ignoring how the paint broke or how pain shot through his knuckles. He’d been healed in under five minutes so why care?

How he wished he’d taken his grandma’s words more seriously when he’d been a child. Sadly, she’d passed away before his tenth birthday so he could only recall the bare minimum. And without any other family member still alive, he had precious little to go on. What he did remember was that it was bad news if a rare blue moon fell in with the moon of winds.

A blue moon, as rare as this event was, happened on average every 33 months. He couldn’t recall the last time everything had aligned so perfectly to combine those two factors. There was also the fact that these moon events tended to affect the Alpha in more ways than his Betas. Possibly because as the Alpha, he was the one in charge, drawing more power from the moon than anyone else.

“We’ve got a blue moon coming up,” he announced when he returned to the living room. Erika was already gone, probably back to town for some bar hopping, leaving only Boyd and Isaac behind.

“What’s a blue moon?” Isaac asked.

“A blue moon happens when you have two full moons in one month.”

Isaac made a noncommittal sound, clearly not getting the significance of what Derek had just said. Probably because Derek hadn’t actually explained anything yet. With a huff of annoyance at the world since no one seemed to pick up these things by osmosis, he elaborated. “March is also the month where the moon is called the moon of winds. Winds of change like my grandma used to say. She also said it was bad news for a blue moon to fall in with the moon of winds.”

“And?” Boyd prompted.

When Derek started at him blankly, he added. “What does it mean for us? What kind of bad news?”

Derek opened his mouth to answer only to realize he had no clue. It was at times like these where it became evident why he should’ve never become Alpha to begin with. He was in the dark about so many things, it wasn’t even funny any more. When it had been just him, it hadn’t mattered. As the leader of their pack it made all the difference in the world.

“We’re going to have to pay extra attention. Make sure our control is not affect,” Derek faked his way through the answer. All of what he was saying was true but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling, this wasn’t what his grandma had been talking about.

“I’m not the one to tell Erika she can’t go on her date after all,” Isaac whined. “I’m not suicidal enough.”

Derek rolled his eyes. No, this task would have to fall to him.

##

Predictably, Erika was in a foul mood when they went on their moon run the next night. Still, despite her complaining, Derek’s reasoning had been sound so she had relented. He could’ve, of course, forced the issue but he didn’t want to be the kind of leader who ruled like a dictator. Pack was about family, not about power. Everyone had a say. There were moments though when Derek desperately wished to be more like his uncle, just laying down the ground rules without remorse because at times, his life would’ve been easier.

Still, his pups trusted him. This was more important than the few grey hairs which were surely due to arrive any minute now.

Shaking off his wolf form, he stepped into the clearing, craning his neck upwards. The clear night sky was beautiful. The huge, pale orb even more so. There was no wind in the air and yet, he could definitely feel the change of season in the air. Something was coming. 

Sniffing the air, he wondered if change had an actual smell. Like morning mist, the world slowly receded, vanishing in a thick shroud. Derek wasn’t even aware what was happening because it was so fast. One moment he’d been staring upwards, glad to be alive to experience this special night, and the next, he was on the ground, blinking up at the glaring sun.

What the hell?

He raised a hand, rubbing at his eyes. Was he hallucinating? Sitting up took more effort than what was reasonable.

His clothes were slightly damp from the morning frost making them cling to his skin. Still, the sun was already going strong, yet another indication the winter was on its way out.

He scraped his hand when he got up, brushing it against his jeans. He’d never lost time like this before. Then, during the same heartbeat, he wondered if his pack was alright. He was already running long before the thought was finished. If the moon had knocked him out, had it affect them too? Where they alright? Why hadn’t they come looking for him?

With unexpected clumsiness, he tripped over a fallen branch. Normally, his senses would’ve warned him, his body reacting automatically, barely needing any conscious thought on his part. Not today though. With a startled yelp, he crashed forward, raising his hands to avoid landing face first in the mud.

What the fuck?

Winded, he took a moment to get his breathing back under control. When he raised his arm again, wanting to check himself for any damage, he noticed the abrasion was still there. Why hadn’t it healed?

Wiping it again on his jeans, he eyed it curiously as he sat up. How odd. A theory blossomed in the back of his mind; one so horrible he couldn’t even formulate the thought properly.

He picked up a nearby sharp rock, racking it over his skin until he was bleeding. Tossing it aside, he started at his flesh, waiting for it to heal almost instantly. Nothing happened. The blood was flowing freely, scenting the air. He sniffed. It wasn’t overwhelming him like he should.

Looking around, he tilted his head sideways, straining his hearing. He could make out birds chirping happily, a few fallen branches were making noises where a nearby animal was passing by but overall, the world was way too silent.

No, it couldn’t be. Shaking his head at himself, he got onto his feet. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to shift. Usually it didn’t take more than a mere thought, often even less than that. He was a born werewolf so he’d been changing since the moment he’d drawn breath. It was like a second skin, a part of him, and yet, it was gone.

It was gone.

It was gone.

His legs crumbled underneath him. He slumped to the ground, his fingers grabbing the fallen leaves, crushing them. He was human.


End file.
